Marluxia x Roxas 10 Hidden Realms
by Pink Apples
Summary: I claimed MarluxiaRoxas at the Livejournal claims community 10hiddenrealms. This pairing needs more fics. Anyway, the point of all 10 drabbles is for them to all be AU. T for now rating will go up.
1. Poster Smile

**A/N: **I claimed Marluxia/Roxas over at the livejournal claim community 10hiddenrealms. The point is to write 10 AU drabbles about your pairing.

_# 1 – ne'er shall the couple meet_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kingdom Hearts, all of the events expressed in my work are purely my own ideas

He had a dream about him that night.

Quivering fingers and sweaty chests, tangled hair and moans loud enough to wake up the entire apartment building. If you could even call it that – the rundown place was cramped and dirty, located in one of the poorest parts of town. One of the parts of town where no one was ever clean, sober, or a virgin.

Oh, but they wouldn't have sex in _his_ bed, Roxas told himself. They would curl up in the older man's silk sheets and soft quilts made out of rare fur in the middle of some foreign country – India perhaps, or Brazil! God knows how many places that man had been.

Roxas looked back up at his ceiling from his place on the dirty mattress he considered a bed, staring up into the dark eyes of his perfect fantasy lover, a perfect name written in curly-cues above a perfect smirking face. The poster was ripping in some places and someone had scribbled a moustache under the beautiful man's nose – it was a second hand poster, after all – but that poster was all Roxas would ever need in life.

Besides Marluxia himself.

Marluxia, a name that belonged in a Shakespeare novel, not on the ratty ceiling of his decaying bedroom. Marluxia, a name that deserved to be whispered by a woman with long blonde hair and a Europe accent, not a fifteen-year-old with a dirty face and no shoes. Marluxia, the name he moaned over and over and _over_ again into his plaid sheets, while he thrust fruitlessly against the mattress, or sometimes the queer-headed girl that lived down the hall. She didn't speak much and her head was always lolling one way or another, and she wouldn't care if some boy was screaming someone's name other than her own – if she even knew what her name _was_ – as he rode out passionate orgasms.

The boys at school often teased him for always scribbling Marluxia's name in his notebooks or muttering during classes as he slept, so Roxas quit going to school period. Not like his parents would care. They were the ones who had _bought_ the stupid television. They were the ones who had brought **home** that damn poster of the famous singer, famous environmentalist, famous pianist, famous public speaker, famous _everything_ and oh, he was _everything_ Roxas _wasn't_ and Roxas was absolutely head over heels and Marluxia would never know.

He was poor, after all. So desperately poor, too poor to buy his own train ticket to L.A. to meet his idol, to live those fantasies that danced in his head day in and day out, driving him into some sort of obsessed psychosis. Even the day Marluxia was pronounced dead of an overdose and it was all over the news and the newspapers and everyone's lips, Roxas was still fucking the brains out of an already brainless girl and fantasizing about the love that he knew he jut _had_ to get from Marluxia because it was just meant to _be_.


	2. Pretty Little Thing

_# 2 – even in death_

The street was totally silent once it happened. Everyone just kind of… stared. I mean, what could they do?

The women were the first to react. With sudden shrieks they pulled their husbands and children or other friends away, mouths agape in disbelief. An old woman fainted. People in their cars – in the middle of the road, even – stopped to peer out their windows and stare. No one honked at anyone else; the only noise that could be heard was the occasional mutterings of "holy shit" and the screeches of terrified females.

No one had been inside the car, thank goodness, when the angel had taken flight.

A young man the closest to the smashed vehicle was the first to slowly approach the mass of glass and dented metal. Blood had splattered onto his cheek, but he made no attempt to wipe it off as he stumbled forward, finally finding himself peering down at the crumpled body of a young man. At least, he thought it was a young man.

Upon a bit more careful inspection, after brushing thick, cotton-candy colored bangs from his eyes, he realized the person who now lay atop the car was a young boy, no older than what looked like fourteen.

Hesitantly, the young man straightened up, glancing around him. Spectators had begun to gather around him in a sort of circle, and he could hear sirens blaring loudly in the distance. Realizing he didn't have much time left to observe the boy, the man looked back down at him, afraid to touch the tufts of absolutely golden hair stained in blood, his bright blue eyes staring into the nothingness above him. _He hadn't even bothered to close his eyes when he fell._

Nothing was apparent about why he had jumped. The investigators had declared it a suicide after finding a suicide note sealed in an envelope on the roof of the building he had leapt from; a simple note saying he would miss his family and friends while he was gone.

That was it.

"Sir, what's your name?" The wiry investigator asked not ten minutes later, a pad of paper and a pencil clutched in his hand.

"Marluxia," the young man answered with a bored sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Uh-huh. So all you saw was just a flash, and suddenly glass and blood is going everywhere, am I right?"

Marluxia nodded. The investigator took his number and e-mail address before thanking him and moving on to the next startled witness. Marluxia didn't hesitate in continuing his walk down the street, the image of the kid's dead, bleeding body still stuck in his head. He wondered what his name was? If he went to school? If he had a girlfriend, even?

_Not like I'll lose sleep over it_, the young man finally told himself as he stepped into a small grocery store, eyes downcast. _Suicides happen all the time in shithole cities like this._

But even as he grabbed the cheapest pack of smokes available and approached the counter, Marluxia still couldn't get that gruesome - almost prettily macabre - image out of his head.

_Shame. He was such a pretty little thing._


End file.
